


let the fire breathe me back to life

by citadelofswords



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia Martin, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, M/M, also doubles as a fix-it fic, also minor background ships, because i am awful at fight scenes, derek is a sassy motherfucker, everyone is a cuddly tactile little shit and i'm not sorry, other characters are spoiler alerts, scott/lydia friendship is my life and you couldn't tell me otherwise, taking liberties with banshee mythos for the win, there is violence but it's not so graphic, this is the winter soldier au no one actually asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citadelofswords/pseuds/citadelofswords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles disappeared the day before their high school graduation, in the middle of a fight between the pack and a group of dragons. (“DRAGONS, DEREK, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT MENTION THAT DRAGONS EXISTED,” had been Stiles’ last words to the ex-alpha, before he’d been lost in the chaos of the fight.)</p>
<p>(aka the winter soldier AU no one asked for ever.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the fire breathe me back to life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LunarCaustic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarCaustic/gifts).



> I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. But I saw [this post](http://citadelofswords.tumblr.com/post/86733630420/tofixtheshadows-im-interested-in-a-skittles) and I could not resist. (Seriously, go read the post, because it is amazing.) This is easily the most painful thing I have ever written. I'm not sure how sorry I am about that though?
> 
> I would like to imagine that Scott's feelings can be interpreted as platonic or romantic. I hope that I accomplished that one little feat. if not, well, I hope I suitably wrecked everyone who reads this.
> 
> Thank you to [Dea](http://tofixtheshadows.tumblr.com/) for giving me the permission to write this monstrosity in the first place. (6000 words, not a monstrosity, whatever, but it was written in one weekend SO)
> 
> Beta'd by [Katy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thegloryofspring), who is a darling, seriously.

Stiles disappeared the day before their high school graduation, in the middle of a fight between the pack and a group of dragons. (“DRAGONS, DEREK, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU NOT MENTION THAT DRAGONS EXISTED,” had been Stiles’ last words to the ex-alpha, before he’d been lost in the chaos of the fight.)

It had been brutal. By the end of it, Kira and Lydia were badly singed and Derek was still outright on fire, rolling around on the ground yelping to try and put the flames out. Kira limped forwards to help him.

“Calm down, Derek, just calm down-,”

“Where’s Stiles?” Lydia suddenly screeched, whirling around. Scott felt his heart drop into his stomach.

“Who saw him last?” Kira asked.

“I did,” Derek said. “He yelled at me about dragons and then he disappeared into the battle. Haven’t seen him since.”

“He has to be here,” Scott said, but his voice came out impossibly high. “He has to be-,”

Propped up against a tree, covered in blood, was a wooden baseball bat. Lydia carefully picked it up in shaking hands and Scott moved without even thinking, as though in a dreamlike state.

“It stinks of Stiles,” Scott whispered.

“And death.” Lydia said, biting her lip. Scott howled and took off into the night.

 

* * *

 

He found nothing except a bloodstained red hoodie, and cried himself back to his human form.

 

* * *

 

No one could ignore the gap next to Lydia as she stood to give her valedictorian speech. Scott couldn't even look at her as she spoke, because he knew that there was supposed to be a gangly mess of limbs positioned behind her, making stupid faces at her back while she tried to be serious.

“Change is inevitable,” Lydia said, finally. “And while we've been at high school, we've seen so much change.” She blinked at the seat where Allison should have been sitting, looked down, and then pushed forwards. “And while we’re out there in the world, we will once again see so much change. There will be plenty of bad days ahead. But we know that at some point, the sun will come out and the bad days will end.” Scott looked up to find Lydia watching him. “We can’t give up during the bad days, because we believe there are no good ones yet,” she said. “We have to keep pushing through so those good days will find us once again.

“I know we've lost some people along the way-,” Lydia gulped and looked down at the podium, gripping the edges so tightly her knuckles popped white against her skin. “But I know that I will keep the close in my memory, and I hope you’ll do the same with all the people you leave behind when you leave today. Thank you.”

When Scott glanced over at his mom and Stiles’ dad, together in the stands, he found them leaning against each other, still shaken raw.

Melissa insisted on throwing a graduation party for him, despite the fact that Derek and Kira were still roaming the woods for any other sign of Stiles, the police department following their leads. The party was only Melissa, John, Scott, and Lydia eating dinner around a table, and it just made Scott keep remembering how all his friends were either dead or too far for him to reach.

He almost wolfed out at the table. Lydia, however, reached across and took his hand. Her firm grip gave him something to focus on, and she gave him a satisfied smile when his pulse returned to normal.

 

* * *

 

Life was difficult without an anchor. Scott almost let the wolf take over three more times over the week following graduation. The fourth time, he was at Lydia’s, and Lydia was afraid of the look in his eyes when they started to glow red.

“Scott? SCOTT!” she snapped, and slapped him across the face. He fell backwards onto the bed and stared up at her with his normal brown eyes. It was the closest thing to a puppyface she’d seen in over a week.

“What was-,”

“I know it’s hard for you without an anchor,” Lydia said. “You’ll just have to find a new one, I guess.”

“It was Allison,” Scott admitted. “And then it changed. But I don’t think there’ll be anything stronger than Stiles was for me. And now he’s gone. My anchor can’t be a ghost, Lydia. It won’t work.” He fell backwards onto her couch, arm thrown over his eyes.

Lydia stared at him for a long moment. Then, she picked up her welcome packet for Harvard and flicked through it until she found the number she was looking for.

"Hello?" she asked the woman on the other line. "Yes, hello, my name is Lydia Martin. This is the Admissions department, correct?" She smiled at the affirmative. "I just wanted to inform you that I will not be attending Harvard University next year."

"What?" Scott said, head shooting up from the couch armrest.

"I do understand that I will lose my deposit. Yes, thank you. I'll be sure to-,"

"Lydia, stop!" Scott shot upright and tried to wrestle the phone from her hands, but she hung on tight.

“Thank you very much,” she said, smile tight, and hung up.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, hand pressing into her shoulder. “That was your dream you just threw away.”

Lydia shrugged. “They’re not smart enough for me,” she said quietly. _None of them will be Stiles_ , she thought to herself, smiling bitterly. _And there’ll be no Allison to make it worth coming home._ “I’ll go with you and Kira, it’ll be okay. Being stuck in this town isn't so bad.” She wondered if he understood what she was getting at- wondered if he understood that he would have her for good.

Scott slowly nodded, and Lydia smiled at him, trying to coax one out in return. It didn't work, but no one could blame her for trying.

 

* * *

 

It was on his nineteenth birthday that the department finally closed the case and pronounced Stiles truly, officially dead. It was a somber crowd that watched the carvers etch a second name onto the Stilinski tombstone- a name that Scott had always known but could never pronounce- a name that had Lydia laughing through her tears as Scott haltingly tried to give a formal eulogy.

Scott cut off before he could finish and choked on a sob. “He was my best friend,” he whispered, finally. “He was my best friend, and he’s gone because I wasn't watching his back. And we can’t even bury him properly, because there’s no body.”

That was the saddest part of it all, Kira thought. The grave that they were standing over didn't even have a box in it. Claudia was buried right where Derek was standing, and where her son would have been there was nothing but dirt and worms.

“I don’t believe that Stiles is dead,” Scott said to Kira, later, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “I need to hold on to that, or else I’m not sure how I’ll go on.”

She took his hands and held on, a steady anchor for him as he cried.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, time was the cruelest gift fate had ever given the world.

Scott woke up the morning of his twenty-first birthday and stared into the mirror to find himself as young as he had looked when he was seventeen. The only thing that was different was that his jawline was tighter, and his mouth didn’t smile as much anymore. And he knew that if he were to laugh at something, it would come out as a bitter bark, and not something truly full of joy.

Kira could still make him laugh. Lydia could make him relax. There was no Stiles to make Scott emerge from his shell.

Melissa appeared behind him suddenly, staring sadly into the mirror behind him. “Still look seventeen,” she said. “Freaky werewolf genetics?”

“No,” Scott mumbled, and splashed himself in the face to force back the shift. “Derek looks his age. I think it’s Lydia. Freaky banshee powers. And stuff.”

“Seems probable,” Melissa said. “After all, if a death herald can decree who dies, shouldn't she be able to say who survives as well?”

Scott’s jawline got tighter. It was just one more piece of evidence he could add to his _Stiles Isn't Dead_  list.

Lydia walked into his house that night with three movies in her hand. “Star Wars,” she said, by way of greeting. Scott sat down on the couch with her, and while he didn't laugh at anything, his mouth quirked up at the parts he thought were funny, and at the parts he knew Stiles would have loved the most.

They were the same parts. Scott didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

 

* * *

 

Five years after Stiles vanished and sucked the color from the world, the Sheriff died. At least at his funeral there was a body to bury. Melissa and Scott cried in equal measure; the people of Beacon Hills offered their condolences to the boy and the woman who had already lost so much of their family. Lydia stood next to Scott, anchoring him as he watched the gravediggers lower the coffin into the ground.

“There are some things no nurse can save,” Melissa said, in the eulogy. Scott tucked his head against Lydia’s shoulder; she ran her thumb along his wrist soothingly, keeping his pulse down. “There are some things that you can only hope time will heal. John Stilinski suffered greatly from the loss of his wife, but losing his son was the final straw.” Melissa sucked in a breath. “His life was devoted to his son, and his son’s friends, and the well-being of this town. Beacon Hills will not be the same without John.”

There was the sound of growling from the woods and Scott’s heartbeat quickened. Lydia’s hand tightened around his wrist. “Let Derek and Kira handle it,” she whispered. “They’re capable.”

Scott could hear Derek in the back of his head, like a badly tuned radio. “You will leave, right now, and you will not speak to them.”

“If you do,” Kira added, and there was a swell in Scott’s chest, “if you do, we will know, and we will find you.”

“You being my family doesn't change the fact that everything is worse with you around,” Derek snarled, and Scott heard Peter Hale growl in submission.

Malia disappeared from Beacon Hills the very next day. Neither she nor her father would ever be seen by them again.

 

* * *

 

Danny visited his old hometown ten years after graduation to have dinner with the pack. He told them about New York, and the lights that lit up the night.

“I see Stiles, sometimes,” he admitted to Scott, who dropped his fork. “Only for a moment. A number of the clubs I frequent are his kind of dig, you know? And I see him for a moment in the men I dance with. And sometimes… sometimes I see Aiden, as well.”

Lydia looked stricken.

“It turns out I’m a medium,” Danny said, lips quirking into a grin. “I see things other people can’t I was freaking out that I was completely out of my mind, but then I actually saw Ethan again, right before he left for France.”

“He’s in France?” Lydia asked, just as Scott burst out, “Have you heard from Isaac?”

“Not Isaac, no,” Danny said, and tweaked the collar of his shirt. “Ethan wanted away from America, and he asked me if I wanted to come with him. I, clearly, said no.”

“And why would you say no?” Derek asked.

“Because, Miguel,” Danny said, and Derek’s eyebrows went higher than his hairline, “I still don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be in a relationship with a werewolf.”

Kira choked on her orange juice. The entire room fell silent. Melissa’s fork was halfway to her mouth, and Derek looked stricken.

“Don’t worry,” Danny laughed, and placed a hand on Kira’s shoulder to help brace her. “I haven’t told anyone. Nor did anyone tell me.”

“Then how do you know?” Lydia asked.

Danny shrugged. “It’s Beacon Hills.” he said simply.

Kira and Lydia laughed. Scott’s smile split his face- the feeling of delight was so foreign to him, he almost couldn't bear it.

 

* * *

 

Lydia’s power was widespread. She weighed the lives of the people around her and judged them worthy of life and death. And she had looked at her pack and ruled them worthy of immortality.

Except, twenty years after they graduated, while Scott was busy at the mechanics, Melissa pulled Lydia aside while they were baking him a cake.

“I know what you’re doing for them,” Melissa said. “For all of them. You’re immortal, and you’re keeping them alive. But there’s no reason to keep me alive with them.”

“Mrs. McCall,” Lydia said imploringly, but Melissa shook her head.

“I’m nearly sixty now,” she said. “I want to live out my life keeping an eye on the town and on my son, and I want to grow old while I do it. I don’t need to be young to be powerful or intimidating. And if Death comes knocking tomorrow, I don’t want to flip him the bird and move on. I understand what you’re doing, but I don’t want any part of it. Use that power to help make my son happy again.”

Lydia nodded. “If you die, Scott will be heartbroken,” she said, and Melissa laughed.

“Good thing I’m not planning on dying any time soon, then,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes, and Lydia let go.

 

* * *

 

The day that they learned that someone had assassinated a werewolf began with Scott opening his door to find Allison Argent on his stoop.

It was thirty-seven years after her death and she still looked sixteen and beautiful, her eyes shining as Scott blinked at her. After a moment’s resignation, he turned around and moved back into the house. Allison followed him in.

It took two hours and Lydia’s startled scream for Scott to realize. Scott had looked at Lydia, still looking only twenty, and then at Allison, and then he said, voice cracking, “You can see her too?”

Allison reached out and touched his hand, and she was solid and warm and real and Scott turned his hand over to grip hers tightly. He found himself unable to speak, unable to breathe, unable to move except to pull her in for a bruising hug.

“Thirty five years,” Lydia gasped out, between ragged sobs. “I have been trying for thirty years to bring you back. And then you just show up like this?”

Scott released Allison from the hug so she could hug Lydia, but he continued to grip her hand tightly in his. He was afraid to let her go- afraid she would leave once again.

“Only thirty?” Allison asked playfully, gently pulling them both to the table to sit down.

“We spent seven years hunting for Stiles,” Lydia said, and Allison’s face fell fast.

“Stiles?”

“He’s dead,” Lydia said shortly. “Or, we think so. We haven’t got any proof.”

“He vanished the night before graduation,” Scott said, as the screen door banged in the wind.

“Isaac?” Allison asked.

“Went to France with your dad,” Lydia said. “Maybe he’ll come back after… well.”

The screen door banged again, more insistently, and Derek suddenly appeared in Scott’s kitchen. “Someone is putting a hit out on us,” he snarled, by way of greeting.

“Hi, Derek,” Allison said.

“Hey,” Derek barely spared her a glance. “I know, I know, you want to figure out how she’s back. Well, we haven’t got time for that.” He took a deep breath. “Ethan was murdered yesterday.”

“Ethan?” Lydia asked, as Scott said, “How does that constitute a hit being put out against us?”

“Ethan was killed by another werewolf.”

“That doesn't answer my question- wolves kill wolves all the time.”

“The scent of the murderer was distinctly Californian.” Derek smiled viciously, showing ragged, razor-sharp teeth. “Ethan was killed in France. Omegas may roam, but they don’t roam that far.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Isaac,” Derek shrugged. “He’s coming home, by the way. Pack is stronger the more it’s united.”

What he doesn't say is clear all the same- Scott’s pack won’t be as tightly bound as it once was, not without Stiles there to hold everyone together.

 

* * *

 

When Kira came by and spotted Allison, she grinned at Lydia, kissed Scott on the cheek, and then dragged Allison away for several hours. They returned looking fresh and giggling together, and Scott realized there was nothing more terrifying than the three most important women in his life banding together.

 

* * *

 

The screen door banged shut three days later. “Scott?” asked Isaac’s voice, tentatively. Allison looked terrified, and would have bolted out the back door if Scott hadn't stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Isaac?” Scott said. “I’m in here. Is Chris with you?”

“No,” Isaac said, and appeared in the doorway. “Chris is-,”

He cut off at the sight of Allison, biting her lip and rubbing her arm behind Scott. No one spoke for a long moment.

“Is this… Is this some kind of sick joke?” Isaac asked, tearfully, gesturing to Allison.

“No,” Allison whispered, “no, Isaac, it’s really me, I don’t know how I’m back, but I am.”

Isaac choked and straightened up. “It’s been thirty-seven years,” he said, finally. “It’s been… oh my god, Allison.”

She moved around the kitchen island at the same moment that Isaac shot forwards to crush her to his chest, both of them choking on sobs. After a long moment, he pulled back enough that she could stretch up and kiss him, once, twice, too hard and too intimate for Scott to watch. He slowly turned away.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Allison whispered.

“Me too,” Isaac said. “Your dad’s… well.”

“It’s been thirty-seven years, I expected nothing else,” Allison whispered. “We’ll worry about that later. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Isaac, and when Scott turned around, he had his face buried in Allison’s hair and seemed to be just holding her.

Slowly, Scott slunk out of the room to try and find Lydia and Kira.

 

* * *

 

“Do we have any intel on the murder wolf?” Scott asked Isaac.

They were gathered round the kitchen table. Isaac still refused to let Allison go. Scott had Lydia leaning into him on one side and his arm wrapped around Kira, hand resting on Allison’s arm. Derek alone was not a part of the touching party, choosing instead to pace the living room with steps that sounded as though they were going to break the floor.

“He’s thin,” Isaac said, and flipped open a blue sketchbook with one hand. On the last page was a sketch of a wolf standing on its rear legs, fur pale grey, eyes ice blue and cold. “He’s thin, and he’s an Omega who can shift into the Alpha form.”

“Is that possible?” Scott asked, confused.

“Apparently,” Isaac said. “I saw it happen. I saw this… this winter wolf run away. He’s dead silent- it’s terrifying.”

“Animal experimentation,” Lydia said, and pressed closer to Scott. “It’s like some sick, twisted experiment.”

“The theory right now is that this wolf was bred to kill other wolves without being tied to a pack,” Isaac said. “And Ethan’s death, where I could watch it happen, was clearly a signal to us- to you. It’s a warning, Scott. They’re coming for us.”

“When they do,” Scott said confidently, “we’ll be ready.”

 

* * *

 

They weren't ready.

It took four years for anything to happen to them, and all the long four years they waited they wondered if there was no hit planned on them after all, leaving them not at all ready for the absolute brutality that the first battle brought. The winter wolf wasn't even there. It was half-trained omegas who still had teeth sharp enough to rip a man’s throat out without even a glance.

It was only Lydia who drove them away, in the end, and it was long after Derek had howled in the agony that came with almost having one’s guts ripped out of their stomach. She appeared on the overlook, hair blazing despite the darkness, and she pulled on Allison’s old flamethrower that spat fire at the terrified omegas.

After the first three went down, the others fled the scene, yelping, even as Kira helped Scott to his feet and Isaac scooped up Allison.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Derek panted, hand pressed to the gaping hole in his side, and Lydia grinned, feral and half-mad.

“If we’re going to win this,” Kira said, “we’re going to need a hell of a lot more backup.”

“Leave that to me,” Lydia said, and Scott pleaded with whatever God was out there that she hadn't gone insane.

 

* * *

 

Lydia had gone insane.

The next Saturday found them in a graveyard at witching hour. Lydia had dolled herself up and was wearing sparkling pink kitten heels and was dripping pig’s blood into the center of a sigil. Allison was clinging to Isaac and Derek leaned heavily on Kira as they watched Lydia perform the ritual. Scott stood just behind her, wondering if he should stop her before anything worse happened.

“Do you know who she’s resurrecting?” Isaac asked Allison, in a low voice.

“No.” Allison whispered back.

Lydia began muttering in Latin, and lifted what looked like a bleeding human heart over the circle, and yeah, she’d gone nuts.

“Return to me,” she finished, finally, and there was a bang and a lot of smoke poured from the ground. When the smoke finally cleared, Derek’s hacking coughs audible for a mile around, there was an empty circle and five candles burning where there had been none before.

“Where’s Lydia?” Scott asked, whipping around. “Lydia?”

His phone went off in his pocket- his same battered old phone that he’d had for forty years that never seemed to break. Kira and Derek limped closer to him, Kira’s fingers entwining with Scott’s even as Derek rested a hand on his shoulder. His fingers slipped as he tried to press accept.

“It worked,” Lydia said pleasantly. Isaac and Allison crowded closer to hear what she was saying. “You can come home now. They’re anxious to see you.”

Scott stared at Kira, who shrugged in confusion.

The five of them made an interesting figure as they struggled through the mostly abandoned town back to Scott’s old house. Suddenly Isaac, fifty feet from the house, let out a yelp of shock and bolted. Derek sniffed the air and loped after him, still running awkwardly with a half-healed wound in his side. Scott blinked in surprise and followed as quickly as he dared.

As it turned out, Derek was a protective mama bear who cuddled the shit out of people, if the pile on the floor was anything to go by. He and Isaac had enclosed the two newcomers within their grip- the newcomers turning out to be Erica and Boyd, looking thin and shaken but otherwise no worse for wear. Isaac sounded as though he were holding back sobs. Derek just kept growling intermittently, and curled tighter around his former betas.

Lydia glanced up and smiled triumphantly at Scott.

 

* * *

 

“Now what?” Allison asked, after they’d all settled on the floor with blankets and hot chocolate, fire crackling away in Scott’s fireplace.

“Now, we find out what the hell these bastards want.” Scott said. “And why the fuck they almost killed Derek.”

“They clearly have something against us,” Lydia said. “I just don’t understand… it looks like a pack, except they’re all omegas. They don’t have an alpha.”

“It’s like a human is ordering them to do this,” Derek said.

“Okay,” Scott said. “Here’s the plan. Next time they try to antagonize us, Allison and Isaac will follow the omegas home to figure out what the fuck is going on. Until then, we work to get back up in shape. These last four decades have been difficult on us working as a pack. We need to whip everyone back into shape.” Erica grinned easily at him, and he felt himself smile despite the tightness in his chest. “Okay, let’s get going.”

 

* * *

 

Scott stared at himself in the mirror, watching his half-shifted form stared back at him. With every day that passed, it got harder and harder to step away from the wolf in his head and return to his human form. With every day that passed, he forgot Stiles more and more.

It was terrifying to think about. He remembered Stiles, but he was beginning to forget what it felt like to hear Stiles tell a stupid joke, or how it felt when Stiles crashed into him at full speed, or what the glint in his eyes sparked in his chest when Stiles held up a bag of mountain ash and a katana.

“Scotty!” Stiles had yelled. “Hey, Scott, catch!”

Scott had caught the katana in confusion, and had flailed it wildly upon seeing the bag coming straight for his head. “Don’t breathe!” Stiles had yelled, and Scott had choked on the mountain ash but had clapped his hands over nose and mouth and let the dust settle.

“Sorry I’m late,” Stiles had said. “Traffic was shitty. And I’m sorry about your lungs.”

“Damn it Stiles,” Scott had said, “you could have killed me!”

“It was the first thing I thought of,” Stiles had shrugged. “And you’re alive now, aren't you?”

“Yeah, but I’m living without you,” Scott said aloud, and jerked as he realized he was almost full-alpha.

“Scott!” Lydia burst through the door. “I thought you were getting a handle on this?” she said, eyes narrowing at him.

“I was,” Scott growled, and Lydia took his hand. “It’s not working now.”

“The motel, Scott, remember the motel.”

Being drenched in gasoline. Stiles delicately taking the lit firecracker from Scott’s hands, stepping into the pool. Lydia’s scream of fear and their subsequent fall. Scott rolling over Stiles to cover him, and Stiles rolling him back. He breathed out at the memory of Stiles’ voice and when his eyes opened again, it was his own young, cursed face staring at him in the mirror. Brown eyes, not red.

“I’m forgetting him, Lydia,” Scott said. “I’m forgetting him, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Remember him,” Lydia said. “Keep him alive in your heart. That’s how I've always gotten through without him.”

Scott nodded slowly, and hung on to her hand as she leaned her chin against his shoulder.

They stayed there for a long time.

 

* * *

 

The next battle was easier. There were more of them and less of the lackeys, and Scott found jubilation in their victory. They were a snarling mess of half-shifted humans fighting, Allison firing her arrows to help whenever she could, Kira roaring her rage.

The atmosphere of the fight changed. There was a shift. The lackeys perked up and then they were scattering in every direction.

“We can’t have won,” Scott muttered, glanced up, and froze.

There was the winter wolf, perched on an overlook staring above them. The beast was… well, it wasn’t that big. And it looked painfully thin. But it was a true wolf, and it had zeroed in on Scott as its prey. Scott watched as it slowly stood and began to maneuver towards him.

That was when Scott stopped breathing.

He could feel his alpha form melt away, could hear Allison and Kira screaming at him to act, but he was frozen, because even under rippling silver fur, even behind those cold blue eyes, the winter wolf walked with the same quick grace that he’d always known Stiles Stilinski to have.

“Stiles?” he whispered, tears blurring his vision. _I knew it, I knew he was alive_ , his subconscious crowed, but his heart was screaming that this was all wrong, it should never have happened like this.

There was an unwanted memory, suddenly, of a gaunt teenager emerging from a pile of bandages, and fear on his face and in his voice when he whispered Scott’s name. The sight of a second Stiles, standing over him, eyes cold and hard as he spat rage at Scott’s feet.

A quiet hospital room. Stiles explaining the dementia to Scott, almost breaking down in tears. Scott had hugged him tightly, and had promised to never let Stiles go without a fight.

And now here he was again. He was alive and had been for the last forty years and Scott wanted to hold Stiles and never let him go again- but he couldn't, because Stiles was raking claws down his cheeks and it didn't make any sense.

“Stiles, please,” he said, even as the winter wolf tackled him to the ground. But Scott’s words were enough for it to open its gaping jaw and speak, voice raspy with infrequent use-

“What the hell is a Stiles?”

Scott’s entire brain shut down. An arrow caught Stiles in the side and he yelped, shifting abruptly from alpha form to half-wolf, and Lydia screamed.

Stiles growled and then leapt away, Allison chasing after him with a wild cry. “ALLY!” Isaac yelled, bounding across the forest floor after her.

Lydia rushed forward to help Scott up. Her hands bracing under his arms were enough to jerk him back to life, and he realized that he was merely saying the same thing, over and over again.

“Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, Stiles, _Stiles_ …”

With a whimper, he began to cry.

 

* * *

 

“Mom!”

Melissa McCall, aged seventy, turned around and watched her son barrel through the door of her room in the nursing home.

“Mom, Mom, I was right, I was _right_ , he’s alive, Mom.”

“Who’s alive?” Melissa asked, half-risen from her chair, already knowing the answer.

“Stiles,” Scott said, and he sounded wrecked, tear tracks evident on his dirty face. “Stiles is alive.”

 

* * *

 

“What the hell is a Stiles?” the winter wolf asked again, but this time it was begging, questioning. He’d shifted back to full human mode, the rings under his eyes nearly black from exhaustion, face thin and gaunt from thirty-five years of torture and starvation. “That alpha. Who was he?”

“Of little consequence,” purred the alpha huntress. “Put him out of your mind, darling.”

“But I knew him.” A day, a night, a motel with glowing neon light. Soaked to the bone with gasoline, lit flare in hand. A soft voice whispering _you’re my brother, you're not no one, you’re just going to have to take me with you,_ the voice changing abruptly, _Stiles, STILES, PLEASE, NO, STILES,_ the voice abruptly rising in panic. A girl with ratty red hair. An archer who never missed, a boy with red eyes, a blonde whispering about Batman, the alpha from the forest floor with tears in his eyes. “I knew him.”

“He’s remembering,” said the thug. “Fuck, he was triggered out there. I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Shut up,” said the alpha huntress. “All right, wipe him again. Start from scratch.”

“I knew him,” whispered the winter wolf, and then he screamed in agony.

 

* * *

 

Allison and Isaac crashed through the door of the house the next day, right as Erica growled her displeasure at Boyd for putting too much pressure on a wound that didn't seem to be closing.

“We found him,” Allison breathed, and there are tears sparkling in her eyes. “Oh, Scott, the things they’re doing to him…”

Isaac pulled her against his chest and held her tightly. Scott reached over and stroked her hair. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

“It’s the worst machine possible,” Isaac said gravely. “Lydia came closest when she described it as animal experimentation. They got him bitten and basically brainwashed him into not remembering.”

“They’re hunters,” Allison said. “They don’t follow the code, not at all. It’s like they bred Stiles for the express purpose of having a rabid dog to kill wolves without being caught themselves.”

“They fucked up by sending him to France to kill Ethan, and now they’re trying to wipe us out.”

Scott stood, only one thing on his mind. “I’m going to save him.”

“Weren't you listening to me?” Isaac asked. “He’s not even close to human anywhere. He’s closer to a dog.”

“All the more reason to rescue him now,”

“I’m sorry, Scott,” Isaac said, shaking his head. “But I don’t think he’s the kind of boy you’d save, not anymore. He’s the kind you stop.”

“He’s my best friend,” Scott snapped. “He’s my _brother_.”

“He’s gone, Scott-,” Isaac tried again, but Scott took a step forwards, and Isaac cowered back.

“Kira’s mom said the same thing when the Nogitsune took him over,” he snarled. “She told me to kill him. I didn't. I saved his life. I know he’s still in there, Isaac, and I can get him out again.”

Isaac said nothing for a long moment, then slowly nodded at him.

“The main goal should be bringing down the hunters,” Derek said. “After they’re gone, then we can worry about Stiles.”

“We’ll do it,” Allison said, gesturing to herself, Isaac, and Lydia. “We can bring down the hunters.”

“I’ll come too,” Derek said. “Scott, you, Erica, Boyd, and Kira should serve as a distraction. Get the lackeys as far away as you can so the humans are left unguarded.”

“Don’t kill them?” Scott asked. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Of course not, dummy. I won’t kill them unless they kill me first,” Derek said. “That a good enough compromise for you?”

Scott nodded. “We do this tonight,” he said. “Got it?”

His pack nodded at him. Erica looked excited.

“Get ready,” he said, and rose to his feet. “This is going to be tricky.”

 

* * *

 

Scott whistled the four note code he and Allison had decided on, to signal them to go. He heard Isaac slink away and howled, as loudly as he could, to call his pack.

He could only hope that Stiles, or the winter wolf, would hear the howl and follow it as well.

There was the sound of many footsteps crashing through the trees and Scott yelled, “MOVE!” He and the wolves bounded away in several directions, and he could hear Kira’s heart beating as she followed him out of the clearing they’d been in.

“They’re coming!” barked Boyd, and Scott whipped around, claws unsheathing. The first omega leapt from the trees but cowered at the sight of him- ten feet tall, full alpha form, black as night, eyes red and teeth dripping. Scott howled again and his betas appeared, snarling and pacing the background.

And then…

The winter wolf appeared at the crest of the ridge and Scott almost stopped breathing again. Stiles’ jaw gaped in a wordless snarl, but his head was shaking side to side slightly. Scott wondered if he’d heard the call and had followed it, not even realizing who was calling him.

“The lackeys are gone,” Erica whispered. “What now?”

“Let me handle him- go help Allison,” Scott muttered, and that was when Stiles leapt.

“Stay back,” Scott growled at Kira, and then he and the winter wolf were rolling on the floor together, growling and snapping at each other. A stone hit Scott in the small of his back and he roared, abruptly losing some of his height.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled, and clawed at Stiles’ chest, rolling them over. Stiles snapped at Scott’s shoulder and his chest, making contact with some tender muscle that made Scott yelp with pain. “Stiles, please!”

“Don’t call me Stiles!” Stiles roared unexpectedly, and lifted one huge hand to let his claws extend even further than they already were.

“Scott!” Kira yelled, and he growled in protest at her before Stiles rolled him over, swiping down his chest and causing Scott to slam back into his half-shifted form with a grunt. Blue eyes bore into red and Scott whimpered.

“I can’t believe you still think you killed her,” he whispered, and slammed his fist into Stiles’ side, knocking him backwards. Stiles roared his rage, even as the winter wolf shrank down to half-size. He staggered up in his half-shifted form, looked up at Scott with cold eyes, and sprang for Scott, plunging his too-long claws into Scott’s stomach. Kira let out a cry.

It was not, however, a killing blow. Stiles dug the claws in further and Scott whimpered in pain, curling slightly around himself.

“Finish it,” he heard himself say, as Stiles pulled his claws from his stomach. “Finish it.”

“ _Scott_!” Isaac yelled, and Scott wondered, dimly, when he’d arrived.

"Finish it, Stiles!"

"Don't call me Stiles! I'm not Stiles! I'm _no one! _"__

“You're not no one!” Scott yelled, and Stiles hesitated. “You're not no one," he said again, tears blurring his vision and shaking his voice. "You're not. You're my _brother_. And if I'm going to die by anyone’s hand, I want it to be yours. I’d choose you. Every goddamned time.”

Stiles froze, claws still extended and hovering over Scott’s face, shaking slightly.

Stiles vanished suddenly, and there was some other omega hovering over him, snarling. Something slammed into Scott’s stomach and he screamed, a real, human scream that sounded faintly like Stiles’ name. He had no time to dwell on it, as his head slammed into the ground and the world went black.

 

* * *

 

He woke up curled on his couch, blanket stretched over him and the sound of murmuring somewhere behind him. He felt raw, and when he tried to shift on the couch there was a spiral of agony that spun from his stomach out.

“Scott!” Allison was suddenly in his field of vision, gripping his face, searching his eyes. Isaac and Lydia appeared over her shoulder.

“Been a while, hasn't it?” Scott said, voice scratchy, and Allison smiled.

 

* * *

 

“I need to find him,” Scott said stubbornly.

“What if he doesn't want to be found?” Lydia asked, staring down at the Stilinski tombstone, her fingers entwined with Scott’s.

“I won’t talk to him, then. I just need to know that he’s okay. I need this, Lyd. He’s my-,”

“Brother, I know.” Lydia’s lips quirked upwards. “And a part of him still remembers. That omega was going to rip your throat out, you know, and none of us were close enough to stop him. I thought…” She let out a shaky breath. “He’s going to take work,” she finally said. “Lots of work and patience on your part. He’s seen so much shit.”

“I know,” Scott said. “I’m willing.”

 

* * *

 

It took two months. And, in the end, it wasn't even Scott who was looking.

There was a knock on his door in the midst of a thunderstorm. The pack was upstairs, Scott quietly curled in his recliner reading, when the knock came again, more insistent. His back creaked as he stood up. He still only looked twenty-five, but the years were taking their toll on him.

He shouldn't have been so surprised to find Stiles at the door.

Stiles still looked terrible. The rings around his eyes weren't as dark, but his face was still thin and his clothes still hung loose. His wet hair, overlong and tangled, was plastered to his forehead. He looked so, so lost. Even as Scott stood there, Stiles took a step back, already looking ready to run.

“Wait!” Scott called, and Stiles paused, halfway to fleeing. “Wait. Come back.”

Stiles turned around, watching Scott carefully. “I know you,” he said finally.

“Yes, you do,” Scott said.

“I remember things,” Stiles said, and his lips looked as though they were deliberately forming the words. “Not a lot. But I remember a motel and a flare and a puddle of gasoline, and an MRI and a thousand year fox inside my brain.”

“The Nogitsune,” Scott said lamely.

“I don’t know if I can be Stiles again,” Stiles said. “Not like… before. But he seems like the kind of person I’d like to try and be.”

Scott smiled, big and huge. “I’d like to be there for you,” he said, in a rush. “If you’ll have me.”

Stiles took a tentative step forwards, and Scott offered his hand. Stiles slipped his fingers through Scott’s and held on. Scott had a brief memory of offering his hand to a little boy on the playground, over fifty years before, and gently squeezed Stiles’ hand.

“You don’t have to be an omega anymore,” he said. “There’s a pack waiting here for you.”

“I don’t remember any of them,” Stiles confessed, looking guilty.

“That’s okay,” Scott grinned. “They’ll jog your memory.”

Gently, he tugged Stiles into the house, and let the screen door bang shut behind the two of them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Here, have some super painful art of a full Winter Soldier AU (aka non werewolf, Scott-Is-Cap AU that I just could not write, jeez.)](http://citadelofswords.tumblr.com/post/82734282358/kendrawcandraw-if-it-makes-you-less-sad-ill)  
>     
> [Come say hello.](http://citadelofswords.tumblr.com)


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